


Distractions

by Persiflage



Series: Watson & Magnus: Tales from Wartime [2]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is driving everyone mad as his knee heals so Helen steps in to distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Some readers asked for a sequel to my first Sanctuary fic, [Aftermath](http://archiveofourown.org/works/212610), so here it is.  
>  **Spoilers:** Normandy (3.17)  
>  **Disclaimer:** I definitely don’t own Sanctuary, alas!

“Dr Magnus!”

Helen stopped and turned to see the medical orderly who’d operated on James a few days ago, hurrying along the corridor towards her. “Dr Franklin? Is everything all right?”

“Can’t you do something about Dr Watson?” he asked.

Helen frowned. “Do something about him?” she echoed, puzzled.

“He’s driving myself and my staff crazy because his knee isn’t healing as fast as he’d like. He keeps pestering us to declare him fit for duty again, and in all good conscience I can’t, not for another few days at least. If he tried to run on that knee, he wouldn’t get very far, and he’d probably do more permanent damage.”

Helen nodded her understanding. “I’ll see what I can do, Dr Franklin.”

“Thank you.” He turned and hurried away again, and Helen stood looking thoughtful for a few minutes before going to find the CO.

She had to wait for several minutes before she could get in to see him, but once she did, she quickly explained the situation to him.

“So, I was wondering if I could have your permission, sir, to borrow a car so I can take Dr Watson out for a drive, just to give him something to do,” Helen concluded.

“Very well, Dr Magnus. Tell him you’re going to do a spot of reconnaissance for me,” said Dempsey, scribbling something on a piece of paper and passing it over.

“Yes sir. And thank you sir.”

Dempsey nodded, then waved her away, and Helen hurried out to arrange to borrow a car, then to persuade the Quartermaster to give her a picnic. With the CO’s pass in hand she soon had everything arranged, and she hurried upstairs to knock on the door to James’ room with a feeling of anticipation.

“Come in.”

Helen stepped inside and found her lover sitting at a table by the window, his left leg stretched out awkwardly to one side.

“Helen! I didn’t know you were back,” he said, grabbing his cane and pushing himself up to his feet.

“I got back less than an hour ago,” she told him, moving around the bed to join him.

“Thank god you are back,” he said, his tone rather desperate.

She wrapped her arms around him and let him kiss her soundly for some time, before persuading him to sit down again, then leaning back against the edge of his table which she saw was strewn with papers, maps, and books.

“I hear you’ve been driving Dr Franklin crazy,” she observed, brushing a lock of hair off his temples.

“Well he’s driving _me_ crazy,” retorted James grumpily. “He won’t declare me fit for duty, and I’ve been cooped up here working on their crazy plans ever since you left.”

“James it’s no use you pestering the MO to let you loose if your knee’s not fully healed. If we have to make a run for it, I want to know you’re capable of doing so. I do not want to be worrying that your knee will give way, or that you’re risking further, possible permanent, damage.”

“Must you be so reasonable?” he asked.

Helen laughed softly. “Yes. And you should be too. Now, the CO’s asked me to do a spot of reconnaissance for him, and he’s agreed you can come with me. I’ve got a car and some food, so what do you say to getting out of here for a few hours?”

“I say ‘Lay on McDuff’,” he answered, his face lighting up with obvious pleasure at the prospect.

Helen pushed herself away from the table, then helped Watson find his coat and hat, before leading the way downstairs.

* * * * * *

They made their way out of the chateau and into the grounds to find the car which Helen had commandeered. A sergeant carried the picnic basket, which was soon loaded into the boot of the car, then James climbed into the passenger seat, while Helen slid into the driver’s seat.

“Ready?” she asked, giving him a smile.

“Always.” He smiled back, and Helen thought that he looked less strained now that he was out of the chateau.

She reversed the car out of its parking spot, then turned it around and headed up the drive and out onto the French highway.

“When are you going to learn to be a better patient?” she asked, putting her foot down and relishing the rush of freedom she felt.

“I’m not a bad patient,” James said gruffly.

Helen laughed. “Darling, you’re a terrible patient,” she said. “Remember back in ‘99, when you broke your arm? You drove me mad for weeks!”

“Remember when we were setting up the London Sanctuary, and you went down with the flu? You insisted on getting up anyway, and you fainted!” he retorted.

She laughed again. “Fancy you remembering that.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I had to carry back up to bed and if you remember, I locked you in your room for three days and kept the only key so you couldn’t get up again and make yourself any sicker.”

“And you nursed me through it,” she said, glancing aside at him with a softer expression.

He smiled. “I did. I was the only one you’d listen to at the time.” He reached out and clasped her wrist. “Face it, Helen, we’re terrible patients because we’re both so work-obsessed.”

She twisted her wrist and caught his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers. “True,” she agreed. “Why don’t we see if we can forget about work though, just for a few hours?”

“We can try.” He squeezed her fingers in return, then released her hand so she could concentrate on driving. “Where are we going?”

“Up towards Montebourg,” she answered. “Dempsey asked me to do some more reconnaissance work.”

“So we’re not going to stop thinking about work,” James observed.

“We are, until we’ve had our picnic at least.” She flashed him a smile.

* * * * * *

They spent the rest of the drive talking about anything but the war or work, recalling happier times, and by the time they arrived at the picnic spot which Helen had chosen James was feeling far less fidgety and irritable.

She parked the car, lifted the picnic basket out of the boot, then led the way into the woods. James followed, being careful to watch his footing since the ground was uneven and he didn’t want to risk falling and further damaging his knee.

They reached a clearing where Helen set down the picnic basket, then pulled out a thick tartan rug and spread it on the grass.

“Would sir care to be seated?” she asked, bowing with a flourishing gesture.

James laughed, then lowered himself down carefully, setting his cane within reach. “What did you manage to persuade Peterson to give you?” he asked, nodding at the picnic basket.

“Not much,” she answered, lifting the lid and beginning to set out bread, cheese, a little pot of pâté, another of butter, and a bag of apples. “There’s no wine, I’m afraid, just beer.”

“Never mind,” said James dryly; the picnic was not insufficient, considering there was a war on.

They ate and talked, reminding each other of events and incidents of the early days of their friendship; James carefully refrained from mentioning John as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control his bitterness and anger at the other man’s betrayal, and he didn’t want to upset Helen or spoil this picnic. She’d been away doing reconnaissance for three days after the medical orderly had removed the bullet from his leg, and he’d been bored and frustrated without her.

The top brass were working on Operation Goodwood and he’d been tasked with assisting them. He didn’t mind the work, it was dealing with the pigheadedness of the senior officers that irritated him, and without Helen there to empathise with him, or talk him out of his grumpiness, he’d taken his limited mobility to heart.

“James?” Helen’s voice, sounding slightly anxious, broke into his thoughts, and he looked up with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry.”

”What were you thinking about? I called your name a few times before you answered.”

“How much I’ve missed you the last three days,” he answered, not wanting to discuss work.

She leaned her shoulder against his. “You’ve missed me? I thought you were more self-sufficient than that?”

He grunted. “Usually, but with this knee – ” He left the sentence unfinished, knowing she’d understand, and swallowed a final mouthful of beer.

“Poor James.” She lifted her left arm and turned his face towards hers, staring into his eyes. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends, too, haven’t you?”

“I’d nothing better to do,” he answered promptly.

Helen laughed softly. “Bad boy.” She kissed him and he sighed with pleasure and relief, wrapping his right arm around her and tangling the fingers of his left hand in her hair. He leaned back, pulling Helen to lie down with him perforce, and she grunted, then pulled away to shift into a more comfortable position.

“You want to do this here?” she asked, gazing down at him as she leaned over him.

“Do what?” he asked, slightly bemused. “We were only kissing.”

“Mmm, but kissing usually leads to other things, if you recall.”

He smirked, then pulled her head down for a further kiss, savouring the taste of her mouth. As far as James was concerned, kissing leading to other things was perfectly acceptable at the moment.

“It’s a little too chilly to get undressed properly,” Helen observed when he finally released her mouth.

“Just as well you’re wearing a skirt then,” he commented, smirking again.

She shook her head, but he could see she struggling not to laugh, and her eyes were twinkling with amusement. “Good job it’s not a straight skirt,” she said, getting to her feet again.

James watched with anticipation as she slipped her knickers off, then knelt beside him to unfasten his trousers. “Ah!” The cooler air hitting his overheated cock was a bit of a shock.

One of the things he loved about Helen, he decided as she hitched her skirt up out of the way before positioning herself to take his erection inside herself, was how very uninhibited she could be when she chose. He still remembered how prim and proper he’d thought her when they’d first met at Oxford, and how very quickly she’d disabused him of that idea.

As she lowered herself down until his cock was buried deep inside her slick heat, he reached out to clasp her hips, allowing himself a guttural moan of satisfaction as he filled her.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Definitely,” he answered promptly. “Just don’t bang my knee, please?”

She pretended to scowl at him. “What do you take me for, James Watson?”

“Right now? A wanton hussy,” he said immediately, grinning. He tightened his grip on her hips so she couldn’t pull away.

“I ought to leave you high and dry for that,” she informed him, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in the threat.

She began to move and he reached up to unfasten her blouse, wanting more direct contact with her skin.

“Lean forward please?”

She complied, and he unfastened her bra, then pushed the material up so that he could cup both her breasts in his hands. She gave a soft moan of pleasure, which he’d anticipated knowing how much she liked being handled in this way. He repeatedly flicked her nipples with his thumbs, and she groaned, then retaliated by circling her hips and clenching her inner muscles more tightly around his cock.

“Yes!” he hissed. “Don’t stop!”

Of course she immediately stopped moving and he growled at her until she smirked down at him before resuming her movements, then speeding them up.

James grunted as he felt his impending orgasm building up to its peak. He reached up under Helen’s skirt with his right hand and found her clit, which he immediately began rubbing, wanting her to reach her climax at the same time.

“Helen!” He cried her name as he felt his orgasm hit, and then she was gasping his name too, as she continued to ride him through the waves of her climax.

She slumped down on top of him for a moment to catch her breath, then rolled off him. That was the trouble with the chest plate of his exoskeleton – it was not a comfortable thing to lie on. He reached down and fastened his trousers again, watching as Helen rearranged her own clothes. He couldn’t wait for his knee to be healed so that he could make love to her properly: it wasn’t fair that she had to do all the work at the moment.

* * * * * *

They spent the next three hours driving around the countryside, noting all the details Dempsey required for a reconnaissance report; James took notes while Helen did the driving, and he found himself wondering how much longer this war would continue. This enforced period of inaction had given him time to recall the life he and Helen had been obliged to set aside in order to assist the Allies, and he’d had time to realise how much he missed the ordinary chaos of their lives spent dealing with Abnormals.

They got back to the chateau in time for dinner, and after they’d eaten Helen sat down to write up James’ notes for Dempsey’s report, while James went back to trying to work out the logistics for Operation Goodwood.

“Do you think they’ll let us go back to London soon?” he asked later, when they were getting ready for bed.

“I hope so,” she answered. “I worry about what Nikola is getting up to, especially without the two of us around to keep an eye on him. You know how easily he gets distracted or gets into trouble.”

James sighed. “Yes, I do.” He pushed back the bedcovers and got into bed, wondering if he really wanted to go back to London if it meant Helen was going to be running around after Tesla: sometimes he wished she wasn’t quite so fond of the vampire. He knew it was silly to be jealous, especially when he knew she didn’t feel the same way about Tesla that she did about himself (but nor did she feel the same way about himself as she did about John whispered a treacherous voice in the back of his head). Perhaps he could suggest to the top brass that they send Tesla to Eastern Europe, he mused, but if Helen ever found out, she’d never forgive him.

He banished these thoughts as Helen finished brushing her hair and came to join him. He slid an arm around her and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“No getting up to work tonight, mind,” she told him as she settled her head on his shoulder.

“No mum.” He laughed when she poked him in the ribs.

“Be good,” she said. “Or I’ll go and sleep in my own room.”

“Don’t,” he said immediately, tightening his arm around her body.

He hadn’t told her that part of the reason he’d been working all hours while she’d been away was that he’d been having nightmares about still being trapped in that bunker under Carentan. He didn’t want her to know because he knew she’d blame herself for what Druitt had done to him, and that would just upset her even more than she already had been by Druitt joining the Nazis.

Sometimes, in dark moments, he wished they’d never experimented with the Source Blood; the effects of their experiment had not, in his view, done either Druitt or Tesla any good. He sometimes worried about its effects on Helen too, especially when they were doing dangerous work, like now, and he got injured; he worried about her being left on her own, growing older with no one else to keep her company or look after her if she got ill.

He could feel his mood souring and he did his best to jerk his mind back from his thoughts.

“You’re fidgety tonight love,” Helen said, her voice sounding sleepy.

“Sorry.”

“Do I need to distract you again?” she asked.

“Again?”

She laughed softly. “Our picnic was intended to distract you from the fact your leg isn’t healing as quickly as you want.”

“Who put you up to that?” he demanded, intrigued.

“Well the picnic was entirely my idea, but Dr Franklin asked me to do something about you because you were driving him and his team crazy.”

“Huh.” He felt he ought to be annoyed by this revelation, but instead he was amused. “Well, if you do want to distract me again, I won’t object.”

“Very well Dr Watson.”

James grinned in the darkness – maybe there were advantages to having an actual war wound after all.


End file.
